


Unannounced

by TwoCatsTailoring



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dalish Elven Culture and Customs, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-29 17:15:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14477457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwoCatsTailoring/pseuds/TwoCatsTailoring
Summary: The sneaking in and out of places they shouldn't be goes both ways.





	Unannounced

**Author's Note:**

> Kiss prompt: kissing so desperately that their whole body curves into the other person’s.
> 
> Background: Daniel has a kid, she’s 13 at the time of Inquisition. Her mother is still alive but they didn’t marry. Daniel’s hair color is all the poor girl got from him (physically. she’s got his smartass mouth.) and I HC it’s a pretty weird color for Clan Lavellan, being kinda carroty orange.

"Thanks much, ser. Who was next?" Business was booming and Ahlania Lavellan, the valleslin over her cheeks still tinged pink at the edges, offered her best 'impress the shemlen' smile to the most outrageous moustache she'd ever seen.

"Hello, dear girl," the owner of said moustache began with a gentle smile that didn’t match the lines on his face. "This isn't how I expected to meet you, but your hair gave you away."

She's lucky she's quick on the uptake and luckier that she's not alone today. Because of all the people to come wandering into Wycome on High Market day, a Tevinter Magister with a familiar voice and no entourage is the last one she'd expect.

And this particular Magister has her stunned stock still and silent for what feels like an age until all she can manage is a whispered, "Oh Ghilan'nain, where now."

"Preferably, to your father," he returns with another smile that doesn't fit his face. Somehow, she expected him to be younger.

________________

He had a choice. He could have played it safe and kept going, ignoring the flash of sunset yellow across the Marketplace. The Dalish didn’t stay long anywhere, right? Or he gotten in touch the usual way. But Dorian had ceased to be surprised by anything anymore, himself included.

Though he was a bit taken aback when Ahlania - who in his mind remained forever as Daniel had first described her as an awkward 13 with his untamable shock of ginger (old gold, the butterflies in that one part of the Emerald Graves, Skyhold’s twilight) hair and her mother’s too-wide brown eyes - got him just far enough from the crowds to put a knife to his throat and demand proof he was who he claimed to be.

The other half of the sending crystal she had known for years satisfied her and he was somehow _proud_ of her for the gall. 

And while not much surprised him, he couldn't honestly claim to not suffer his nerves jangling when the Aravel's sails came into view. 

_____________

Ironwood yielded to his hand as always, the will of the tree humming along his fingers in straight lines with a slight twist around that could be exploited in the fletchings. He added it to the stack of its brothers and frowned over his shoulder at the sound of familiar footsteps. 

"Shouldn't you be at Market still? Mir algara, are you well?" His curiosity turned to alarm and he was on his feet, closing the space between himself and his (all grown up, when had that happened?) daughter who was a looking pale, her cheeks almost scarlet which meant she was either about the throw up or was holding back a lot of emotion. Neither idea was good for his heart.

Her mouth opened, but nothing came out so she extended an arm, pointing to a spot between the Aravels but refusing to look that direction. 

“I’m afraid I gave her more of a shock than she was prepared for today.”  


All of Thedas and very likely the Beyond as well went silent as the very air he was breathing evaporated. How long had it been? Four years? Almost five now since the dissolution of the Inquisition? Since he’d gone home and so had Dorian, doing what had to be done though it put them so far apart. Since he’d seen those too-pale-to-be-real eyes and that almost-sardonic twist to his mouth that lied so easily to everyone. Everyone but him. 

“Well,” Dorian was saying from underwater, “Seems shocking people is the order of the day. Were I less fond of myself, I’d -”  


While Dorian rambled, Daniel wasn’t sure what had moved him to close the distance between them and he didn’t actually care. He brought his hand up to cup Dorian’s cheek, making sure he was real and not some sort of illusion or trick of the light.

“Dorian.” His name came out as a breath. He was real. He was solid, flesh and blood and right here in the middle of their camp as if that’d been the plan all along and he was still _talking_.  


“- leave for a while. Water got too hot to stay right in the thick of it. I might be going gray, but I’m still far too pretty to die.”  


“Shut. Up.” Daniel covered Dorian’s mouth with his thumb, but still the fool tried to talk. “Now,” he commanded, gloriously close to giddy laughter as he pulled him forward, pressing their lips together, arching into Dorian as his arms wrapped tight around his back.  


Reasons, explanations could wait. Five years was too long.


End file.
